“Elizabeth, are you sure we should do this now when…”
She clamped her palm over his mouth, eyes blazing with passion and irritation. “I am not constructed of glass, Fitzwilliam! Why is it that every time I develop the merest sniffle or cough you insist on believing me barely strong enough to raise a teacup and far too weak to engage in activity remotely strenuous when I insist I shall recuperate swifter if allowed to move about and maybe even make love to my husband, no matter how annoying I consider him at the moment, and when will you get it through that stubborn brain of yours that I am tough and if strong enough to birth babies I can….”
The verbal lashing that showed every sign of continuing on indefinitely was halted when he finally managed to peel her gripping fingertips from his face and clamped his mouth firmly over hers. The kiss startled her into silence, but did not last long since Darcy lost his battle in repressing laughter.
“My spunky wife is back in full form, praises to God!” he gasped amid the laughs. “And, I pray, your vacillating temper is further indication of pregnancy.” He traced a fingertip over her knitted brows, still chuckling as he continued, “I plead guilty of zealous guarding when you are incapacitated in any way and shall make no promises to ever change, as it is my character and duty. But believing you made of glass? Not at all! More tempered steel and pyracantha thorns are you, Mrs. Darcy! If I doubted your strength, and I never have, the doubt would have been erased after examining the gouged earth as evidence of how you fought Wickham. And do not think I did not notice the scratches on his cheeks. Gave me a thrill, I must tell you. I could not be prouder.”
“Then why the persistent mollycoddling?”
“I mollycoddle because I enjoy taking care of you, Elizabeth. If my attentiveness disturbs you I will try in future to reign in my need to excessively hover.”
“Well, no,” she mumbled, lowering her eyes in contrition. “I do appreciate your concern and know I am blessed to have a husband who cares so thoroughly.” She glanced upward into his glittering eyes, voice again surly as she added, “Even if he is a nuisance about it.”
“A nuisance am I? Hmmm, then perhaps I should leave and not stay home with you all day as I planned. I would not wish the label to advance from nuisance to burdensome pest!”
She lifted her chin, piercing him with a stern glare. “You may stay home, if you promise not to baby me or limit my activity. I want to move beyond this chamber even if it does tire me and I want to make love! Will you agree to my terms?”
“Did you totally miss my clever innuendos and unveiled glances when I announced I had canceled my appointment with Lathrop so I could remain at Darcy House today? Either I have lost my skills or your perceptions are still blunted from your illness, in which case perhaps we should wait a while longer,” he teased.
Lizzy harrumphed but did flush faintly. “Not on your life! Now you have committed to the course, so do not try to back out of it again!” And she forcefully pulled his entire body back onto hers, not that he had moved too far away, with limbs insistent in their assault and mouth eager to reengage.
The bulk of their nightclothes were removed and both far along the road to full arousal before any words were spoken. Darcy pulled away, primarily to doff his shirt, but paused to ask, “Clarify one thing. When was it that I tried to back out of loving you?”
“When you asked if I was sure we should do this now. After waiting for nearly a week I was in no mood to listen to reasons why we should not be together.” She pressed her fingertips to his lips, her eyes shiny with emotion. “Loving you, having you love me, is what is needed to restore us both, Fitzwilliam. We need to erase any vestiges of fear over what might have been. We need to immerse ourselves in the other, loving hard to declare our vitality and passion.”
“I could not agree more, dearest.” He resumed his roost atop her, their naked flesh melting together as he smoothly embedded himself deep within her, commencing a slow rhythm. He drew her bottom lip between his teeth, his tongue sweeping across before releasing to speak between kisses. “The only reason I have not ravished you days ago and proven my burning need for you is simply because time has been against us, Elizabeth. I have been as exhausted as you and torn in numerous directions. I did not want to rush our lovemaking, and that was what I was about to ask before you flared at me.”
He rose on his elbows, maintaining the steady thrusts that were rapidly causing every coherent thought to flitter out of Lizzy’s brain, and encircled each milk-heavy breast with a broad hand. “I only meant if we should wait until after Michael needed you.” He bent and licked over one taut nipple, Lizzy’s laugh lost in a throaty moan of pleasure. “But now it is too late. He must learn patience as I no longer care to be a concerned father.” He moved to the other nipple, applying the same treatment. “Right now I am the impassioned lover intent upon his wife. I trust this pleases you and fulfills your terms?”
Lizzy nodded, limbs squeezing tightly and body rocking to match his exuberant tempo, and her breathy yes in answer to his question was repeated over and over as a fervent affirmation of her pleasure.
Darcy entered his study precisely at eleven o’clock smiling and whistling. In every way the morning had passed delightfully. The refreshing lovemaking with his incredible wife was followed by a visit from Michael, and then Alexander, the four of them breakfasting together. Once the boys returned to the nursery, Michael for a nap and Alexander for his lessons in the alphabet with Mrs. Hanford, he and Lizzy sat on the terrace overlooking the back garden. They talked about general topics, such as the mundane matters of household management and society gossip he had noted for her benefit, as well as weightier subjects involving their children.
“Has it occurred to you that this baby, if you are indeed with child, would probably be born around Christmas time?”
Lizzy’s eyes widened in surprise and the teacup heading toward her mouth halted mid-air. “I… Well, no, I didn’t… Are you sure?”
Darcy laughed, mostly because she was now tapping out the months with her fingertips on the arm of the sofa they sat on. “We cannot say for certain, of course. But it is a rough guess since we are well into April and you are just feeling symptoms.” He swallowed a mouthful of tea and watched her face. “I rather like the idea of a baby as a Christmas present.”
She turned to him with a smile that was so brilliant and countenance so animated with joy that his breath caught and his teacup also hung forgotten in space. They stared transfixed while their hearts quickened, finally leaning for a soft kiss. They never cared to analyze how it happened, but in short order they ended up back in their bed with no ready recollection as to how they got there other than vague images of clothes shed in haste—proven by the scattered garments trailing all the way to the terrace—a vast amount of kissing and touching, and someone slamming the door with a resounding crash.
Taken all together, Darcy was in an excellent mood when he greeted Mr. Sebastian Butler, who was early for their appointment and awaiting him in the sunny room.
“Mr. Darcy”—he bowed—“thank you for agreeing to meet with me today. I know your time is precious and concerns heavy at the moment. May I inquire as to Mrs. Darcy’s health?”
“Thank you for your solicitude, Mr. Butler.” He sat down in the leather wingback near the window, waving a hand toward the identical Chippendale on the other side of the small square table bearing a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses. “Lemonade?” He poured two tall glasses of the cool beverage, speaking as he did so, “Assuming I am correct in my deductions based on the week’s interactions, I am guessing Miss Darcy is forthright with you and has revealed that Mrs. Darcy is not suffering from a cold.”